


quiet storms

by debeklena



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:10:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debeklena/pseuds/debeklena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy Gilbert POV. Jeremy/Elena, Jeremy/Damon, and Elena/Damon. Gilbert family feels. Set somewhere after 5x14. Elena's no longer possessed by Katherine, but she isn't the same. || If she didn’t seem so calm he’d swear that she was waiting for something, and the only conclusion he can come to is that there’s a reason storms are named after people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quiet storms

Jeremy watches, eyes more attuned to her than they have been in a long time. 

It only makes sense; after going so long without seeing past a familiar face, he’s left with a lot of questions, and he doesn’t dare voice them, at least not to anyone but Bonnie, who’s long since learned to refrain on relying on anyone but herself. Bonnie has no answers, and he doesn’t expect her to, just as he doesn’t expect to remedy the part of him that longs for the Elena who could love without killing herself, who knew how to mend hearts without breaking her own, and how to kiss without creating bruises. It’s never something she’s been good at, however, and he’s only now come to the conclusion that that was never her destiny: she was the chosen one, born to die, cursed to live. He’s sure that Damon might know, or at least know why it’s so important that he learns, but the last time he saw Damon the vampire was shoving him into Enzo’s grasp, and if he’s certain of anything, it’s that he should be a lot more afraid. 

(It rarely pays to be afraid of Damon, and now, his only fear is the silence.)

Silence is everywhere.

And she doesn’t make a sound.

He expects her to be angry with them (how foolish of him), to throw things, to steal Damon’s bourbon for the hell of it or burn Katherine’s clothes ( _her_ clothes), but she does none of those things, at least not where he can see her. If she didn’t seem so calm he’d swear that she was waiting for something, and the only conclusion he can come to is that there’s a reason storms are named after people.

It’s the same as before. And it’s very, very different. 

When their parents died, Elena became silent—not at first, but soon exhaustion took its toll, and drinking was only fun when she was certain she was going to get caught (now there was no one left to catch her.) It’s not a silence he can describe, even now, but it’s only when that fire has burned out that he realizes exactly how bright she’s capable of burning, and exactly what destruction she’s capable of. The problem is that there  _is_ no storm—she’s just.. empty.

Not unfeeling, not invulnerable, but without motivation. He expects her to prove that her body is hers, to dye her hair blonde like he’s heard girls do after breakups, to cut him off after his first drink—instead, she stares, with eyes too light to be Katherine’s but too dark to belong to her, either. Time passes, and she’s steady on her feet, and he knows no perfect people—even she’s killed, and something tells him now that it’s more than feeling, more than emotion, and yet, simply sad in the purest way—the kind of sad that takes time. 

Time, give her time, that’s what Stefan says. But Stefan’s become accustomed to waiting, and he’s got his own demons, always has. He’s levelheaded and rational, and Jeremy begins to wonder how Damon’s dealt with him all these years. At least Damon’s got the courage to step out of line, to be bad with purpose (to be bad for them), and he’s seen the fire in his eyes. It’s become a familiar part of the fabric of their lives; Damon’s fire. The same fire that used to make them both feel safe at night, when the house was solely theirs. 

He’s sure now that Damon doesn’t mind him as much as he likes to pretend. 

One day he finally gets the courage, and Damon looks him in the eye for the first time in weeks. “We look like Katherine,” he says, plainly, insignificantly, and Jeremy finally understands: this has all been a silent war she’s been fighting (she’s not Katherine, but this is not Elena - not the Elena they all need her to be - and she’s desperate to find balance), and one Damon has already lost (he’s not nearly as innocent, and he refuses to be a victim - he knows exactly what he’s doing before he does it, and he’s never been more clear.) 

There’s no point in asking if Damon still loves her, if he loves her like this, if  _she_ loves her like this, but he’s gone too far now, and there’s no point in refusing himself the words. Stefan would answer in paragraphs, in platitudes about happiness and stories from the past, but for Damon the answer is simple: her. It’s always been her.

But who is she?

Who are they?

Later, when Jeremy asks a much easier question, one with an answer he thinks he might understand, he misses Elena more than he’s ever missed her, and that’s because she’s right in front of them now, standing still and begging, pleading, for someone to make her skin her own, to care for her like she’s cared for them.

"Do you like her like this?"

"I like her. Period."

 


End file.
